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Chapter One
Beverley watched Hyacinthe repot azaleas. Her slender fingers seemed to know by feel where the delicate roots were, bringing the plant up smoothly and easily from one pot, then moving it into a bigger pot and settling it into the rich loam.
Bev’s heart was beating double time and her sensible, grandma-style, white, cotton briefs were damp in the crotch. She was hopelessly, passionately in love with Hyacinthe and Hyacinthe loved her, too. But Cinthe also loved Inigo, their male colleague. In fact, Beverley thought sadly, Hyacinthe very likely loved half the staff at the Botanical Gardens where they all worked. Hyacinthe was incapable of settling down with one lover at a time. Monogamy was not a word in Cinthe’s vocabulary.
And Beverley loved Cinthe so much. She couldn’t imagine a day without seeing Hyacinthe’s lithe little body, always dressed in the flimsiest of clothes, even in winter, Hyacinthe’s shiny, golden hair flowing in waves to her tight, little butt, her sky-blue eyes sparkling in fun or lust.
Beverley sighed at the potting mix she was measuring out. She was a sturdy five foot eight, not a dainty five foot two. Her hair was a boring, mouse-brown, not golden. Her body was closer to pudgy than to lithe. Her eyes were a bland shade of brown, neither chocolate nor hazel. And she was one hundred percent lesbian, having never had the slightest heart fluttering for any man, not even the pretty ones.
Ah, but for Hyacinthe, Bev’s heart fluttered, her palms sweated, her belly clenched, and her cunt wept. Hyacinthe was everything Bev ever wanted in a partner, and the sex was beyond awesome. The earth definitely shook when they were together. For both of them.
But for Hyacinthe the earth also shook when she was with Inigo. Apparently. And Beverley couldn’t bring herself to hate him or even badmouth him. If she’d been heterosexual, she’d have likely wanted him herself.
Beverley looked across to the other side of the greenhouse where Inigo was hand-pollinating orchid seeds—an incredibly difficult task and one that required immense concentration. The seeds were tiny and it would take three to five years before there were any flowers.
Inigo. Hair as golden as Hyacinthe’s, but where her skin was creamy, his was deeply tanned from being outside so often. Muscles flexed under that tanned skin. Oh yes, if Beverley had liked men, she supposed he’d be on her lust list. Six feet of solid muscle and big in all the right places. Many of the other women at the Botanical Gardens chased after him, but he only had eyes for Cinthe.
Which brought Beverley back to where she’d started. Cinthe slept with them both, sometimes both in the same day even. She said she loved them equally, needed them equally, but could such an arrangement work? Beverley only wanted Cinthe. She didn’t want to share her, not even with a man.
Damn. What the fuck am I supposed to say and do? We sure as hell can’t continue on as we are now. Cinthe has made it plain she wants both of us and now it’s decision time.
****
“This will work,” Hyacinthe said firmly. She looked first at Inigo, who lounged in an ultra-male position in the armchair in her living room. His long legs clad in tight jeans were stretched out in front of him, his booted feet were crossed, and his muscular arms were clearly displayed in the tight, black t-shirt he wore. God, he’s yummy, Cinthe thought.
Next, Hyacinthe gazed at Beverley, hunched at one end of the sofa. Such a talented horticulturalist yet so insecure, always concealing her magnificent breasts. Seldom speaking in staff meetings, she almost hid herself away in the greenhouses. Yet Beverley’s was a sharp mind and her tongue witty once a person broke through her defensive shield.
Hyacinthe paced up and down the living room rug, wearing a track in it. She’d thought and thought about how to bring these two wonderful people together. She needed both of them. She hid a secret and they were the solution to her problem. She was part fairy and her fairy blood demanded sex, lots of sex. It had taken her a long time to understand that not only was she bisexual, but she needed both a man and a woman constantly. It wasn’t enough to have a lesbian relationship then a heterosexual relationship, alternating the two. Her body demanded both simultaneously. The only way to calm her raging lust was to have both together. With Beverley and Inigo, she would find peace. They fulfilled her in totally different ways. Explaining it to them, though, was going to be a tad tricky.
“In our culture baby boys are often dressed in blue and baby girls in pink. In fact pink is considered to be a girly color that is worn by females of all ages while blue remains predominantly a male color.” Cinthe could see them both looking at her as if she’d lost the plot. She rushed on. “Hyacinths are often bluish, pinkish, purplish colored flowers. Neither pink nor blue. That’s me. I am Hyacinthe, neither a pink girly girl nor a blue boyish boy. Oh, my genitals are female, as you’re both well aware. But my tastes are a mixture. Neither a man alone nor a woman alone can satisfy me. I need both to feel complete for more than a night or two.”
Cinthe stopped and drew in a deep breath before resuming both her speaking and her pacing.
“I love you both deeply and sincerely. I know you both love me. But the challenge is, can we three become a unit? I don’t expect you two to have sex with each other, but for this to be a success, for all of us to be happy, you need to be able to coexist and cooperate. My dearest wish is that we become a threesome.”
She stopped and looked at them again, extending her fairy powers to test the air around them. Both of them were a little confused. Beverley was a fraction frustrated and hurt. Inigo was treating it as a bit of a joke, but underneath he was more likely to accept Beverley than Beverley was to accept him.
I must help Bev build up her self-confidence. She’s been badly hurt at some time in her past.
Hyacinthe relaxed a little. They were both broadly accepting of her idea and prepared to try. That was all she could ask of them as yet.
“Come,” she ordered, walking to the hallway door.
She led them into her bedroom where she flitted around, lighting a row of tiny, flower-scented tea candles. As they stood in the doorway, she pulled her dress over her head and dropped it to the floor, revealing her lack of underwear.
Cinthe moved to the nightstand and opened the bottom drawer to display a treasure trove of naughty toys. She flung herself onto the bed, raising her arms above her head.
“Now, together you will handcuff me to the bed, blindfold me, tie me up and tease me with the toys. Together. Working in unity,” she emphasized. “Since I’ll be blindfolded, unable to see what’s happening and tied up, I can’t help you in any way. You’ll simply have to come to a working agreement with each other. By the time the candles burn down, which will be in about an hour, we must all have had at least one orgasm. So get started.” She grinned.
Beverley and Inigo stared at each other, then Inigo walked to the drawer and riffled through it, pulling out ropes, handcuffs, and a couple of silk scarves. Excellent. Hyacinthe deliberately closed her eyes and sharpened her other senses.
She heard boots being kicked off. Next she felt Bev wrapping a scarf around her head, blindfolding her.
Even though Hyacinthe was only one quarter fairy, the legacy from her mother’s mother was strong and she knew instinctively who was touching her where and which one of them was moving. Besides, Beverley’s touch was lighter, more hesitant, while Inigo’s was stronger, more self-assured, just as he was more secure in himself than Bev was.
Inigo wouldn’t hesitate to undress. Bev, though, wouldn’t want a person she considered a stranger to see her naked body. Only once the tea lights had burned down would Bev take her clothes off—if she did at all—and climb in the bed.
Hyacinthe opened her eyes under the scarf. It was a deep-purple silk and she could actually see faintly through it, but she wouldn’t really cheat. Inigo and Beverley needed to learn to cooperate in the bedroom and she wanted to learn how they worked it through.
Hands held her wrists and snapped the handcuffs on, fastening her to the spindles of the headboard. Inigo’s big, strong fingers were easy to identify. But even if they hadn’t been, Beverley’s tentative touch would have given her away. They did one hand each without speaking, an achievement in sharing all by itself.
Nothing happened for long seconds then Hyacinthe felt the air move by the nightstand drawer. Ah, Inigo would be lifting toys out, likely showing them to Beverley or maybe just choosing some himself. Yes, they were moving again. Beverley would be choo
sing some toys or accepting the ones Inigo offered her.
Careful to keep her face expressionless, Hyacinthe grinned hugely in her mind. Over the years she’d collected an impressive array of toys. Although she seldom used them when having sex with a partner, she enjoyed experimenting when alone and had nipple clamps and clips, dildos, butt plugs, vibrators, and scented oils. She could hardly wait to find out which ones they’d use on her.
There was the soft sound of fabric being removed, the slide of a zipper, the pop of a snap fastener, then Inigo’s heavy weight was beside her on the bed and his big hands ran lightly from her toes, over her sensitive arches and around her heels.
Delicious! Cinthe shivered with delight.
A soft plop was followed by the weight of a body sitting on the other side of the bed.
Bev has taken her shoes off and joined us, deduced Hyacinthe.
Beverley’s hands were slightly rough from all the outdoor work she did, but she used them gently to trail along Hyacinthe’s rib cage and tenderly cup a breast.
Unconsciously, Hyacinthe thrust her breast up into Beverley’s warm palm. Her nipple peaked instantly at the slight touch of Bev’s finger. Meanwhile, Inigo’s hands were gradually moving higher up Hyacinthe’s leg, teasing behind her knee and over her lower thigh.
A hot tongue licked warm, wet patterns on her lower thigh, circles and spirals and other shapes, then a mouth puffed warm air on the wet spots, making Hyacinthe shiver once again.
At that very moment another mouth descended on her breast, sucking nipple and areola deep into a warm cavern. A tongue pressed Hyacinthe’s nipple to the roof of a mouth then rolled it and played with it. Hyacinthe groaned. Oh yes! Beverley had a very talented mouth. And the moves Inigo made on her thigh were not so shabby either. He licked higher and higher up her leg, causing a spiral of need to build deep in her core.
Hyacinthe groaned again as Bev released her nipple then blew on the wet peak. Bev’s hands disappeared for a moment, then a nipple clamp bit into Hyacinthe’s flesh with just the right amount of tension to ride the perfect line between pleasure and pain.
The bed creaked as Inigo moved between Hyacinthe’s spread legs, his wide shoulders pushing them even farther apart, and Beverley got off the bed and moved around to the other side. Aha! Hyacinthe thought. They have divided me as above and below the waist, not right and left sides!
Very soon Beverley was back on the bed, her fingers lightly teasing Hyacinthe’s other breast. Bev played with Hyacinthe’s nipple, elongating it, stretching it, twirling it, and then pinching it lightly. Next Bev stroked the sensitive underside, cupping it in her palm and tracing feather-light kisses over the top.
